


Possible (11/39?)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey persuades Ian</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (11/39?)

"You awake?"

Mickey could see Ian's eyes shining a little in the dark so he didn't really need to ask. Perhaps because he slept so much during the day, Ian was often awake late at night when Mickey returned from the Alibi. But he didn't usually want to talk.

"Yeah."

Mickey paused in the middle of pulling off his shirt, then finished undressing and slid onto the bed, leaning up on one elbow. Ian was lying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling, and for a moment Mickey just looked at him.

Ian's eyes finally shifted over towards Mickey. "What?"

"Nothin'. Miss ya."

"Miss getting laid, you mean."

"You okay? Need anything?"

Ian shrugged and Mickey waited, but Ian didn't say anything else. 

When Mickey shifted onto his back, Ian turned his head toward him. "Hope you're not waiting for me. You should be finding someone else to fuck." 

Mickey stilled, his eyes on the ceiling. "I do," he said quietly after a moment. 

He could feel Ian's eyes on him, and turned his head to meet them. 

"Anyone I know?" Ian asked.

"'S no one. They don't matter. If you don't want me to, I won't."

Ian's face was expressionless as always. "No. It's fine. Why wouldn't you?"

Mickey leaned up on an elbow again and stared down at him. "Because we're a couple?"

"Not really." Ian turned his head away. "It doesn't matter. I gotta get home."

"Why?" Mickey had to stop himself from grabbing Ian's arms, forcing him to face him. "Because of what I said? I told you, if -- "

"No. Not because of that. Because I don't belong here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your family hates me."

"No, man. Just Svetlana." Mickey meant that as a joke but it didn't come out like one. "Mandy's like, your best friend."

"Your dad. Your brothers."

"They don't give a shit. They're never here."

"I should be with my family."

"Why? You want to see them more? I can take you over for a visit."

"It's not your job to take care of me, Mick."

"Why not?" Mickey was sitting up now, staring down at Ian and trying to resist the urge to punch something. 

"You can't." Ian kept speaking in a low monotone, with no anger or accusation or really any emotion at all. "You've got your own shit to deal with."

Mickey shot a glance around the room. "Who says I can't do both?" 

"How? Selling coke and pimping?" Ian shut his eyes and started to turn onto his side. "How long till you get put away again?"

"So if I do? A coupla weeks in juvie--"

"Mickey. How old are you? It's not gonna be juvie next time. You're going to jail."

Mickey opened his mouth to respond before he realized he didn't know what to say to that.

"Not to mention Terry," Ian went on, still expressionless. "How long till he's out again?"

"At least six months. I ... "

"Or less, with good behaviour--"

"My dad?" 

"--or overcrowding. He could be out tomorrow, and you know it."

"I'll figure something out, Ian."

"Figure it out for yourself. You've already got a wife and kid to worry about. I'm not gonna be another deadweight dragging you down."

Mickey felt the air rush out of him as though he'd been kicked in the stomach. For a second he couldn't speak. "Jesus, Ian. You're not ... dragging me down."

"Oh yeah? What am I doing, exactly? Can't even get out of bed."

"That's just -- it's temporary. You're ... " Mickey didn't want to say the word, sick.

"I'm fucked. Just say it."

"You got a -- a medical condition." 

"I've got no options, no future. I burnt all my bridges. Only a matter of time till the army finds me. Stop trying to be a hero, Mickey. Just forget about it."

"The fuck am I gonna forget about you, huh?"

"Tell Lip to come and get me. Look after your own family."

"You are family. Jesus Christ." Mickey sat up in the bed and reached for his cigarettes. "Some day I'm gonna kick your ass for this shit, Ian."

Ian rolled over, away from him. "Quit telling yourself this is some kind of phase. It's not going to get better."

For a moment Mickey didn't say anything. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag before answering. "It might," he said slowly, "If you'd go to the clinic."

"Fuck you," Ian said, his back to Mickey. "You want to get me medicated just like everyone else -- to make your life easier."

"Bullshit. I don't know what's gonna work for you -- I just want you to try something."

"Nothing's gonna work."

"So that's it, tough guy? You're just gonna roll over, give up?" Mickey stared down at Ian's closed eyes, but there was no response. "You gave me shit when I didn't want to deal with who I was. Now who's the pussy?"

Ian's eyes flickered briefly, and he rolled his shoulder as though trying to shrug the words away. "Fuck off. Leave me alone." 

Mickey took a breath, hesitated, and reached forward, fingers brushing the flesh of Ian's upper arm. "Ian. I'm asking you. Just go to the clinic once. No one's gonna force you into anything."

The silence spun out this time, until finally Ian's voice came, faint against the pillow. "I can't. Mickey ... I can't." 

"Didn't think I could either. I know you can."

Ian didn't move. Mickey waited, and waited some more, until he almost believed Ian had fallen asleep. Then he heard it, no more than a low vibration from across the bed. "Will you go with me?

Mickey squeezed Ian's arm in the dark. "Course I will."


End file.
